It's Disgusting
by Setkia
Summary: or How Draco Malfoy Was Defeated By Muggle Sweets.


_**Author's Note** : I'll be honest, this isn't my usual pairing. If you couldn't tell from **If You Could Read My Mind** , I kinda prefer my Malfoy rather gay, but I promised a oneshot for my friend S.P. Tripathi, which I promised would be my 25th fic and it was actually quite a lot of fun to write. I hope you guys enjoy it! What's in bold is a direct quote of something she gave me. I don't own **Harry Potter** , I don't own **Hubba Bubba** and I don't own the song. The title is just ... Random ... I always wanted to have a cryptic description for a story so I guess I got it. This was posted sooner than I thought ... And by sooner, I mean right after telling her it would be 2 weeks before it was posted... Sorry about that. I hope you like it! Please no flames!_

* * *

 ** _It's Disgusting_**

 ** _or_**

 ** _How Draco Malfoy Was Defeated By Muggle Sweets_**

 _By: Setkia_

* * *

 _It's disgusting, how I love you.  
God, I hate me. I could kill you.  
Cause your messing up my name.  
Gotta walk my talk my fame, but I just want to touch your face.  
It's disgusting.  
It's disgusting, how you changed me.  
From a bandit to a baby.  
Thinking about gotta change my name,  
If I'm gonna walk this walk of shame.  
Look at what you do to me.  
It's disgusting.  
-It's Disgusting, _Ke$ha

* * *

Hermione Granger was having a very bad day.

But no, that was a lie.

A bad day was waking up with bed hair and not having enough time to tame it. A bad day was running late and eating a burnt piece of toast and calling that breakfast. A bad day was chasing after Ron and the kids because they were back from summer break and Hugo was certain to break his neck on the newest model of the Firebolt. A bad day was Harry calling to talk about how wonderful his life with Ginny is and their two children— soon to be three— while Hermione's stuck leafing through papers that still state that House Elves are merely objects that were owned by their masters. A bad day was walking into the office and being teased mercilessly about how she used to have incredibly buck teeth while she was in school, despite the fact that her parents were dentists and her muggle heritage was thrown in her face.

No, today was not a bad day. Today was hell.

Now Hermione didn't like to exaggerate and make a bigger deal out of something minor, but to her, as she sat behind her cramped desk with her ink spilt all over the latest contract, this was hell. Completely and utter hell.

Hermione could've dealt with the fact that she had woken up late and had to rush to do her hair. She could've lived with having a less than nutritious candy bar for breakfast while running to the telephone booth. She would've been fine with Harry and Ginny stopping by asking what they should name their third child and the fact that she and Ronald fought over the child's name couldn't have bothered her in the least. Just because someone called her 'Mudblood' on her way to her desk it didn't affect her mood all that much, and she had become use to the rather cruel files that thought House Elves were tools to be used and thrown away once their masters was gone.

No, what made this day hell came in the form of a man.

He was tall, skinny and had a pointed face. His eyes were a stormy grey colour and his hair was a platinum blond with frail fingers that looked like glass and pale skin that gave off a vampiric disposition. He wore a fancy black suit— personally tailored, no doubt— with black suede shoes and a green tie, the only splash of colour —aside from his white dress shirt— and black trousers.

Yes, today was hell because Draco Lucius Malfoy had decided to walk into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Very rare was it that the head of the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters decided to take the time to come from the seventh floor all the way down to fourth floor of the Ministry.

'Morning, Granger,' greeted the Malfoy with a drawl. 'Having a good day?'

It was clear from the way he spoke he couldn't give a damn how Hermione felt, so the wise ex-Prefect decided not to speak and instead, turned her attention towards her papers.

There was the sound of a faint pop and Hermione let her shoulders relax. Draco had clearly Apparated out of the office. When she looked up however, she found that Draco was sitting on the edge of her desk.

'Malfoy, to what do I owe this pleasure?' Hermione asked, seeing that the blond wouldn't leave unless she entertained him with some conversation, though she doubted a 'Mudblood' like herself could stimulate his train of thought very much.

'Clearly nothing,' Draco replied. 'Your hair is dull, your eyes are plain, you have no curves whatsoever,' as if to prove his point, Draco looked Hermione up and down, 'and further more, you're married to that weasel, what was his name? Don?'

'Ron,' Hermione corrected. She would not allow him to get the best of her. She wouldn't. She was above this.

'Yes well,' Draco trailed off, looking around her room as though it pained him to see her face and would rather look upon anything else. 'Though you've done nothing to receive this pleasure, however, I've decided to grace you with my presence, regardless of the fact that you've done nothing to merit this delicacy.'

 _Merit this delicacy?_

Merlin, what Hermione wouldn't give to smack that self-assured grin off Malfoy's face.

'A little birdie told me you and John—'

'Ron,' Hermione corrected him once more.

'Oh yes, Ronald wasn't it?' Malfoy took a moment to pause and think about it before shaking his head. 'Well, regardless of what his name is, I've heard you two are having some difficulties, aren't you?'

'That's none of your business,' said Hermione in a tight voice. So what if Ron was spending less time with the kids? So what if Hugo and Rose thought of Harry as more of a father than their own daddy? Mum was the word when it came to the Weasleys' personal life.

Draco nodded curtly, but it was obvious from the mirth in his eyes he wouldn't let it drop. His eyes scanned over the desk and landed on a pack of Hubba Bubba gum. Hermione had honestly been meaning to get rid of it, no one really understood why it was that she had candy at her desk, but before she could tell Draco that it may be very well expired, the pure-blood picked up the gum and popped it into his mouth.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Draco cut her off. She watched as his expression changed as he chewed, slowly letting the flavour hit him. ' **Granger-Danger, what is this? A pink Muggle assortment to satisfy your unrequited feelings for the He-weasel? What? Is he not satisfying with his mind-numbing, your pant dropping, his drool dripping and earth shattering kisses? Please excuse me for a moment while I retch into mandrakes**.'

She watched as Draco pursed his lips and blew, a bubble beginning to form. It popped once it got too big and Draco sighed. 'I don't understand how Muggles can deal with such bland sweets. It's lost its flavour.'

'Then why don't you spit it out?'

Draco looked at her as though offended. 'Can't let it go to waste, now can I?'

Hermione's eyes couldn't help but follow the way Draco's mouth moved, the way his lips formed words. His pale complexion used to look almost sickly on a twelve year old but now, over a decade later, Hermione had be begrudgingly admit that he was rather … attractive. That didn't mean she had to tell him that though.

Then something happened.

Draco smirked at her, obviously content at how much she seemed to be getting riled up over this. He prepared for another bubble and then started coughing.

Hermione's eyes widened and it took her a few moments to realize that Draco Malfoy was choking in her office.

Immediately, Hermione rose up from her seat behind her desk and approached Malfoy who was pounding at his chest with not nearly enough force to expel the sweet. Hermione quickly stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. He twisted, glaring at her, but she ignored him and proceeded to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him.

There was a hacking sound and then the Muggle sweet of all that was evil was expelled from the Malfoy heir's body, sticking itself firmly on the wall. Hermione grimaced.

Draco coughed once more and struck himself in the chest. He glared at the cursed bubble gum that was embedded into Hermione's cork board with distaste. 'Bloody Muggle sweets.'

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Of course, trust Draco Malfoy to be more focused on hating the thing that he nearly choked on, rather than the person who saved his life. Hermione knew three year olds who handled the situation better.

'Now if you don't mind Granger, I have to go wash my mouth of that horrible taste,' Draco said. He turned sharply on his foot and exited the room.

Hermione sighed and couldn't help turning to look at the pack of gum, and then the piece of gum that was attached to her wall. She chuckled.

Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, ice cold Slytherin Prince, the pure-blood, snot-nosed prick who enjoyed calling Muggle-borns Mudbloods, the one who had managed to survive the fire, had lived through _Sectumsempra_ , had nearly been brought to his end by a single strip of Muggle candy.

It was rather hilarious.

She was just about to sit back down at her desk when Draco Malfoy entered the room once more and wordlessly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. She had but a moment, a flash of his grey eyes, before his lips were on hers.

She felt herself sinking, the feeling of his toned body against hers, his cool touch sending shivers down her spine as his skillful lips pried her to open underneath him. She couldn't hold in a gasp as he tilted her head back slightly. She could taste it, the bubble gum on his tongue. When she felt as though she couldn't breathe anymore, Draco released her.

To her surprise, she could see that Draco was just a tad surprised himself. His eyes went wide for a moment, his face paling just a little more. He looked thoroughly snogged, though Hermione doubted that was the farthest he had ever gone with a woman. Even with his past, there was no denying that others were attracted to him. He blinked, and when he finished, he seemed to be thoroughly collected.

Hermione didn't get a chance to ask him why he had done what he did before he answered the question for her.

'To beat the aftertaste,' he told her with a smirk.

* * *

Hermione Granger was having a very bad day.

But no, that was a lie.

A bad day was waking up with bed hair and not having enough time to tame it. A bad day was running late and eating a burnt piece of toast and calling that breakfast. A bad day was chasing after Ron and the kids because they were back from summer break and Hugo was certain to break his neck on the newest model of the Firebolt. A bad day was Harry calling to talk about how wonderful his life with Ginny is and their two children— soon to be three— while Hermione's stuck leafing through papers that still state that House Elves are merely objects that were owned by their masters. A bad day was walking into the office and being teased mercilessly about how she used to have incredibly buck teeth while she was in school, despite the fact that her parents were dentists and her muggle heritage was thrown in her face.

No, today was not a bad day. Today was hell.

Hermione didn't like to exaggerate but who could call it exaggerating when she walked into the Ministry the day after being given the best kiss of her life by her best friend's rival, whom she supposed she had hated her entire life, realizing she had felt more alive with him in those few moments than she had ever felt while with her husband? And the fact of the matter was that there would be no repeat of this event ever again left her feeling hollow, despite the fact that she knew she really ought not to feel so sad about it.

It was Draco Malfoy for crying out loud! Get a grip on yourself Granger, she thought to herself, though the voice in her mind sounded a rather lot like the fair ex-Slytherin Seeker.

Walking into her office, Hermione took a seat at her desk only to notice something at the corner of her desk.

Picking it up, she found a note and a pack of Hubba Bubba gum.

 _Save my life again, will you?_

* * *

Ron Weasley was having a bad day.

But no, that was a lie.

A bad day was hearing the Chudley Canons had lost another game. A bad day was when he woke up in the morning with a bloody weird Muggle sticky-note attached to his head, saying that Hermione had left for work early. A bad day was what he called it when he forgot his tying charm for his tie. A bad day was when his wife, Hermione Granger-Weasley handed him a divorce document after a long day of work.

No, today was not a bad day. Today was hell.

Because when Ron got into the lift to get up to his floor to get to the Auror Department, the doors opened to reveal a certain blond haired Slytherin sticking his tongue down Ron's ex-wife's throat.

And what had the bloody pure-blood Death Eater do when he noticed Ron was staring at them?

Why, he threw him a pack of gum and told him that his wife— _ex_ -wife— had a wonderful taste in Muggle sweets.


End file.
